Shattered
by mrssquirrel880
Summary: Sherlock and John meet a women called Amy. She is unusual - her personality contradicts itself leaving her mind exhausted. She struggles with the normal world and adapts herself to fit in with it. Sherlock and her become close.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock and John meet a women called Amy. She is an unusual type of person - her personality contradicts and alters itself meaning that her mind is exhausted. She struggles with the normal world and adapts herself to fit in with it. Sherlock and her become close.

Sherlock slams the heavy door, leaving the dead victim alone in its room in the morgue, angrily.

"Sherlock! Will you calm the hell down?"

Sherlock storms quickly down the hallway, John jogging to keep in line with him.

"You are supposed to help me! If I ask you to do something, then I expect you to understand what it is that needs doing. If I have to explain everything then what's the point?"

"Sherlock, 'pass me that' is not detailed enough. There is a thousand things I could have given you. My fist for one..." John mumbles at the ending of his sentence.

Sherlock huffs, "No excuses. You were being an idiot."

"I wasn't."

Sherlock looks at him frustrated until he gathers that John honestly believes he is serious.

"There was no error on your part?" Sherlock says, only slightly inferring the question.

"Exactly." John says relieved, Sherlock was finally getting it.

As soon as they leave the morgue, Sherlock turns a sharp left where he meets a young women sat on the bench. She looks anxious and her main priority is her hold on the wintering tree across the road from her. A bus horns behind them on a busy road.

Sherlock opens his mouth, "Do you-"

Sherlock is cut off by the sharp and accurate response of the women in front of him, "It's 16:45"

"See! Common sense. Even she knew what I was on about and she doesn't even know me!"

John crosses his arms thinking about the redundancy of this experiment. The women looks uncomfortable but seems to be enjoying the conversation. She realizes there something going on and catches on quickly giving a smirk to the both of us before resting her eyes back on Sherlock who is now smirking with conceitedness.

"What's your-"

"Amy."

"Can I trust -"

"My judgment is sound."

"Do you think he is-"

"A little. I can see why you get annoyed." She replies before he is finished.

"Excuse me?" John speaks up, glaring at the both of them.

"I said a little!" She shrugs. "I can see why you get annoyed, too" She whispers loudly motioning to Sherlock.

Sherlock frowns, he doesn't seem to be enjoying this conversation as much as he did before although finds it intriguing enough to stay put.

"Let's leave the woman in peace. We've got places to be." John says and Amy lets out a short sigh. Amy noticed the slender man's shaky hands and was intrigued to find out the root cause.

John motions for Sherlock to come along and begins walking a several feet until he turns around a realises Sherlock's feet are rooted to the ground. Something about her has caught Sherlock's eye and he can't help trying to figure out what's she's thinking.

"You've never been at peace, have you?" Sherlock offers, unsure what her response will be but still eager to hear it.

She makes eye contact with Sherlock again. He can feel the intensity of her darkened eyes.

"Peace is my middle name" She says loudly without a hint of amusement. If Sherlock didn't pick up on her despair, he wouldn't have been able to tell from her tone that she was being sarcastic. John walks back to them and although neither of them are speaking, he feels as if he has interrupted something. Amy is finally the one to break the silence.

"You don't happen to have any earphones, do you?" She asks with a hint of pessimism, expecting to be disappointed.

"Why?"

Amy rolls her eyes at John's stupid question and looks at Sherlock for reassurance that she wasn't the only person finding this question pointless.

"I know right. People all ask such pointless question. This is why I don't socialise." Sherlock exhales.

"It's why you are the first people I've spoke to today." Amy agrees.

John looks between the two, shocked at their rudeness. Could neither of them understand that it was meant to start a conversation? Most people enjoy the distraction of socialising and John once again ended up in a situation where he was seen as the idiot.

"I could happily live for years without speaking to another human." Sherlock states. Amy loses interest in the two men and examines the amber leaves circling around their feet.

Sherlock is puzzled why he has suddenly became boring to her, she was fixated on him earlier. John shrugs and turn to the curb, successfully hailing a cab. Sherlock doesn't want to leave but can't find a good reason to stay.

Amy makes sure she is still looking at the ground until she's sure they can't see her look. Her eyes follow the cab and longs for them to come back. She knows better than to expect them to come back. She leaves the bench.


	2. Chapter 2

**Amy's POV.**

My head is spinning but my feet continued to walk down the long stretch of road. I had nowhere to go. Well, nowhere I wanted to go. I couldn't face going home and putting up with the ridiculous excuses her family would make to cover their lies and deceit. I didn't want to make a scene so I decided the best way to do that was to enter the house. Instead I decided to follow a shadow.

I had watched the person dressed in all black inconspicuously hand over money to another stranger in exchange for brown paper bag. I'm not naïve and I knew that it would lead to somewhere dangerous. It's either drugs or a gun. I hoped for the first one. Whilst I'm not afraid of dying, I didn't want to be roped into another police investigation. Death was probably the only thing that didn't cause me to be anxious.

The shadow lead her to an abandoned pub, to the right of a huge industrial estate. I could hear the vicious barks of the estate's German shepherd guard dog in the background. The pub however was not guarded and was missing a front door. From the spray paint around the front, I guessed that this place was a drug den and despite their hostility, they wouldn't exactly kick me out. I don't know why I wanted to go in there. Maybe it was the fact my arms were shaking from the cold breeze or the fact the shadow was the only interesting thing I saw all day, well apart from the brief encounter with the two men.

Maybe the man from earlier has a drug addiction. He did seem agitated and looking for a distraction as much as I was. I had always contemplated using drugs to quieten down my thoughts but always assumed that it's just make it worse. I don't think I could deal with worse. Instead she made her mind busy, usually by listening to music. Since my headphones broke, my brain was been buzzing and not in a the way you'd want it to.

The shadow disappeared by the time I reached the door frame. Not that I cared much where he went, probably make bad company. I wondered if anyone has said that about me before? I scold myself, everyone else sucks. I shouldn't care about what they think.

It's dark in this pub. Well it's hard to class it as a pub. There was no furniture but I wasn't really expecting any. There are a lot more people than I expected to be in here. I peeked my head in each of the rooms. The first one was the liveliest and had a group of sick looking men fighting over something I didn't care about. The rest had their fair share of drug users and unconscious people scrawled across the floor. The last room was the quietest and only have the occasional shriek and a low hum of chatter which mostly consisted of grunts and sighs.

Although, the quiet tended to make matters worse, it was the only way I could sleep. I blamed my 'family' for the conditioning of a silent household at night for my light sleeping. I hope that there is enough jittering from other people to focus on so I could stop internalising myself. I found an unoccupied corner and rested my head against the side of the cold wall. I wondered if I was the only one in there that wasn't high. After scanning the room, the only person I could tell that was shaking in some way, apart from the majority that were passed out, was the person wrapped in their coat a few feet away from me. It was a long coat and it made me envious of their warmth. I should have brought my coat. After staring at this person for a minute (it took me a while for my eyes to adjust and even then, I could only make out outlines), I concluded he was male. Before I could gather any other information, I decided I better stop looking at him. I was too exhausted to find somewhere else to sleep.

I could feel his eyes on me. I once tried to explain to my sister the feeling of another person's eyes on you. To me it was always disturbing and unwanted. It felt like a weight was dumped on your body and build up of pressure. She didn't understand the feeling. She says a person's eye couldn't be felt and it was illogical to think they applied any pressure. I disagreed.

"If you've got something to say, just say it." I said loudly targeted towards the area in which the man was sat. There was silence which for a moment I appreciated and the man looked away. This was then broken by the sound of static and mumbled words only associated with the garbled signal of a radio. I could feel myself panic and myself and the man both rose to our feet. The gleam of the broken slat in the bordered up window shown on the man face. I barely had time to recognise the slender man from earlier before the unmistakable sound of clinking of a flash grenade arrives down the corridor. My heart races but my feet are glued to the floor.

"Amy!" Sherlock shouts impatiently as he climbs over the scrambling idiots running towards the danger.

I know I should be running but I can't move. Through the faint buzzing, I hear another grenade hit the floor. It's closer this time. He yanks my arm towards the wall with the window. Without thinking I help him snap off the wooden slats. I however hesitate after he looks at me expectantly to jump through the window. Without my permission, I am thrown through the glass and land hard on my hands and knees. The nameless familiar man lands a whole meter in front of me and looks around with bloodshot eyes only to spot a shadow turning the corner. He extends his hand towards me, frantically.


	3. Chapter 3

I take his hand without question and begin running. My own hands burn from the recent assault and the gravel digs in deeper.

"Where are we going?" I demanded but he didn't answer.

I try not to think badly of this man as he drags be through dark alleys away from the estate and all the commotion. We arrive at a barbed wire fence. I consider turning back but I didn't know this area and I doubt there was a less dangerous route out of here. I notice a small gap it's left corner. Someone had badly chopped up the gate previously, I assumed it was the man so I took the initiative and pried myself through the hole.

"Be careful." He advised and earned himself a glare.

I managed to get my top half through before I has startled by the sudden sound of nearby doors being kicked down. It must have been a orchestrated raid. These people were definitely not police. The police would never have the authority to torture all of those unarmed people. So what if they were squatting? People have to live somewhere.

They were following us, I realised. Well. While the man was calm, I could tell deep down he was agitated. They were looking for him. So why did he take me along? I assumed that this wouldn't lead me anywhere good. I liked chaos but I fancied being anywhere but here.

I had to get out. I yanked my leg too harshly and the metal wire scrapped across my calf. I fought against it and managed to wrangle myself free. I knew it wouldn't be long until he caught up to me so I made my way through the nearby woods. It was only a few meters before I realised I couldn't maintain a running speed. My leg ached and acted as dead weight which only slowed me down. I should've taken something. It would've eased the pain. I can hear footsteps not far away from me but I couldn't figure out where they were coming from. I manged to pull myself to thick thorny bush and plant myself the other side. I got hurt too often, I concluded as I began examining my body for injuries. There was a lot, the majority were minor and would heal themselves. My hand drifted towards my leg and they came back covered in the blood. Blood never really bothered me before but it the darkness made it look black and ominous.

I heard a twig snap and painfully concealed my leg underneath the shrubbery. I began to hear more sounds a fair distance away and dreaded whatever was coming.

"Amy, it's Sherllock." He slurred too loudly for my liking.

He never told me his name but I remembered his voice. However, it did sound different. He appeared in my sights and he made his way stumbling towards me. Great, I thought. The only person that knew I was here was out of it. In fact he was worse than that. He tripped. He pushed his hand out for balance but overdid it and landed on top of the bush next to me. He groaned in pain.

I couldn't get far enough to find a better hiding place and I'd be spotted straight away with him like that. I thought about leaving him there but that wasn't in my nature.

I manged to gain enough height by getting up on my knees and grabbed bunch of clothing in my hands and pull him to the ground next to me. He lay on his back motionless. I wasn't very strong and this took the rest of my dwindling energy. I was sweating but nowhere near as much as he was. Whatever he had taken, it didn't react well with him.

Something within him sparked and a slither of life allowed him to move his head towards me. He smiled and it was so out of place. I stared at him and he began to twitch.

"What did you take?" I questioned suspiciously in a low tone. In the background I could hear the chatter of the radio.

He keeps staring at me, taking every detail of my face in. It was unnerving and sweet at the same time but I couldn't appreciate it much. I could feel the blood seeping into my shoes. I didn't want to check on it, I didn't know how he'd react but I knew it was getting worse. I was starting to feel faint and my body started to relax.

"I'm sorry you have to watch this." He muttered sincerely.

I barely had time to see him convulse before I my head hit the floor next to him.


	4. Chapter 4

"What did you take?" I questioned suspiciously in a low tone. In the background I could hear the chatter of the radio.

He keeps staring at me, taking every detail of my face in. It was unnerving and sweet at the same time but I couldn't appreciate it much. I could feel the blood seeping into my shoes. I didn't want to check on it, I didn't know how he'd react but I knew it was getting worse. I was starting to feel faint and my body started to relax.

"I'm sorry you have to watch this." He muttered sincerely.

I barely had time to see him convulse before I my head hit the floor next to him.

* * *

For once, Mycroft was silent as he stared at the ugly sight beneath him. Almost entwined but not quite lay his brother and a female civilian, both unconscious and worse for wear. He motioned the others forward and they checked if Sherlock was still breathing. He was almost unrelieved when they told him his airways were clear as a wave of anger overcame him. As the older brother, he knew he had the duty of protecting him and Sherlock's reckless behaviour had caused increased chaos in his life recently. He had hoped his return to morgue and his dive back into cases meant he was becoming less erratic and unpredictable. His men carried them both to the edge of the woods into the black van and he followed closely behind.

"Where to Boss?"

"St Mary's." He said automatically, the trips to the hospital were becoming too repetitive.

He wondered how the girl fitted in with this scenario but doubted it'd be very interesting. Although, it was unusual for Sherlock to socialise with others on his rogue drug fuelled 'experiments' and he definitively didn't expect her to be lay there next to her.

"Make sure you get an ID on her." He added suspiciously.

Amy's POV

I woke up with the sound of nurse leaving the room. I don't remember falling asleep and I slowly adjust to the brightness of the room as my eyes expand. I look down to see the needles in my arms and go to tug at them when the women runs back in.

"Hi Amy. Let's not mess with them, okay?" She looks at me for confirmation and I squint at her angrily while resting my arm in the right position. I notice the bandage on my leg and am both surprised and disturbed that I can't feel any pain.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Hospital." I say sharply while a rise of sickness comes up.

Loud beeping comes down for the hallway and the nurse furrows her brows in worry and heads towards the door. She turns right and starts running. I relax a little and consider discharging myself. I hated hospitals and my stomach kept churning.

 _All security please be on the look out for the patient Sherlock Holmes. He requires urgent medical assistance._

I couldn't help but smile as I hear the announcement and begin to picture the man feeling the scene. I start to remember how crazy last night was and I was relieved to know the man was still breathing – even if he was running out of hospital.

I was just about to draw my eyes away from the door when a face appears from the left. He was grinning. My mouth opened but nothing came out. In a matter of seconds and without a long of thought took out all of the tubes and swung my legs over the side of the bed.

"We haven't got long." He said entering the room surprisingly fully dressed, managing to conceal himself while security ran past.

I suddenly remember how bad the gash on my leg was yesterday and reconsider leaving.

"What about my leg?" I say, biting my lip.

"I know a doctor." He said assuring. I looked at him, finding this hard to believe.

"The man you met yesterday." I remember the smaller middle-aged man and decided to trust him. My legs wobbled as I put weight on them but I forced him to walk to the Sherlock. He watched me closely before offering me his hand which I didn't want to accept but did as I was unsure how sturdy I was.

I felt exposed in my hospital gown as he pulled me around a planned escae route to an old, unused fire exit door. He paused to breathe and let go of my hand. I watched him wearily, he looked sick and I suddenly felt responsible for his health.

"Maybe we shouldn't leave. I think you need some rest… Or something." I said reconsidering the whole idea.

"Me? What about you?" He eyes my leg and then looks up at me.

"I'm serious." I cross my arms in frustration. He overdosed less than twelve hours ago.

"I'm immortal. Lets go." He says sarcastically.

He cracks the door open wide enough to scan the concrete parking lot and concludes it's safe to go. Even though I knew what we were doing was wrong, I couldn't go back. I hated hospitals and I found the man interesting and for once wanted to socialise. He was going to leave with or without me. I might as well tag along.

 **AN: Let me know what you think of the story so far. Any suggestions?**


	5. Chapter 5

Amy's POV

"Th-this is your house?" I say breathlessly from the pavement outside a door.

Sherlock nods and wipes his sweat covered forehead. My leg aches and am desperate to rest it. I go to open the door but he waves his hands to stop. Immediately after, the door swings open. A angry man strides straight passed me, almost knocking me off my one foot that has holds the full weight of my body.

The man that Sherlock promised was a doctor grabs him by the throat. Sherlock tries weakly to push him off and I contemplate stepping in.

"Not. well." He manages to slip out.

"Where have you been?" The man yells with flushed with anger, pressing deeper into Sherlocks throat.

"T-too tight. John."

Sherlock starts to gasp for air and his legs start to buckle.

Without thinking I speak up. "Leave him alone!"

John quickly looks around at me, first with anger in his eyes but then something changed. He looked back at his hands and loosens his grip. Sherlock's weak body slopes against John's chest. I notice that John feel ashamed as he puts his arm under Sherlocks and drags him towards the door.

"Are you coming in?" He sighs.

"Well I'm not going to leave you two alone."

 **Sherlock's POV**

I wake up feeling awful. My joints ache and the coldness of the 221b bathroom floor is slowly draining every inch of warmth from my body. A soft blanket smoothers my bare skin. It's the sick blanket. I never understood why a blanket should be repeatedly be used for when one is sick. Even if it is sterilised, what's the difference between this one and any other. However, John is a stickler for traditions and the very fact that it is there means John put it there, so I do allow myself to take comfort from its presence.

Out of nowhere a worried voice startles me. "We put you in here in case you threw up again."

Sitting just outside the door is Amy. In my oversized purple shirt, which covers up to her upper thigh and the same bloody bandage as before. She looks feverish and I am confused as to why she hasn't moved to some place more comfortable.

"Why haven't you let John fix your leg?" I try ask her but all that come out is a high pitched squeak and a raspy cough which knocks the air from my lungs.

She tries pulling down the shirt in a half-hearted way to cover it up. I look at her bloodied knuckles and sigh.

"Oh. He told me to tell you not to speak."

I manage to lever myself up on the bottom set of draws so I could catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. When I see the purple bruises around my neck, a wave of memories of John closing my wind pipe come back.

"You said he's your friend?" She questions.

I shrug and she accept this as an answer. I deserved it. I haven't spent a night here in weeks and I feel like I over did it this time. I have to accept that he's going to get mad at me. Just like everyone else.

I want to ask her where he went. It's not like him to just leave me here. Or leave her like that, I might add. Though she is younger, John always had a soft spot for mysterious women. I think Amy picks up on this as she slyly takes my phone out from behind her and begins to text someone. I don't know how she managed to log in or even when she swiped it but I'm impressed. She sees me eying the phone and slides it back to me. I don't check it.

Less than a minute later, I can hear John's loud bullish footsteps make its way up the steps and through the house. Amy looks up at him suspiciously before she painfully moves her leg to allow him entrance to the bathroom. I notice the tension between the two instantly and am not surprised when I see john's black eye. This must be why her bandage hasn't been changed. They had a fight. About me, I presume.

"I'm so sorry, Sherlock." He says while knelt down next to me.

I let out another belt of splutters that I didn't know I had been holding in which bring tears to my eyes and makes me wheeze.

"It's just sometimes I see red and I can't…" My coughing drowns him out.

John waits until I finished before he does his medical checks on me. I flinch involuntarily when he begins to assess the delicateness of my throat and I can see that it pains him, so I move my head back to allow him to finish.

"Well I didn't crush it. It should be alright, just try and not damage it any further. You'll get your voice back soon. Oh and no singing, okay?"

I smile at the ridiculousness of me wanting to sing anytime soon.

Amy's POV

I watch as Sherlock accepts John's peace offering of a glass of water and decide to drop my grudge with him. The decision is highly influenced from the fact that my bandage is starting to become more blood than cotton.

"John?" I perk up.

"I'll get my stuff." He sighs and Sherlock lets out a short croaky laugh.


	6. Chapter 6

**Amy's POV**

John returns as promised with a huge duffel bag of medical equipment and supplies. I uncross my arms and inch my leg towards him. As he cuts off the old bandage, his black eye becomes more prominent in my vision and I feel a rise of guilt. He begins to add a few stitches on to my barbed wire gash from before which sends another wave of pain down my body.

"I'm sorry for hitting you. I just didn't know if I could trust you."

* * *

The floorboards creak as I lurk outside Sherlock's room. I have too many questions rattling around my brain to sleep. I know he has the answers, but I don't want to wake him up. There's something about him… I should resent him. He put me in danger. He brought the armed men chasing him, my way. They gassed me and forced me in a hospital gown in a fake hospital wing.

However, I still find myself wobbling through the cracked door and entering his room. Through the aching pain in my leg, first thing I notice is his stillness of his body and the quiet huff of his light regular breathing. Before I look away I catch the fidget of his hands. It's different to his previous coke inducing shakes, it's more controlled. Almost as if he's flicking through something. Perhaps I'm reading too much into it. Instead I turn my attention to the walls that are dimly lit by the slanted lamp resting against it.

He doesn't have a lot. An exotic rug is stuck somehow attached to the front wall, overlapped slightly by the shelving unit that stacks thick books and encyclopaedia's. The books continue to pile up in stacks which get more and more haphazardly as they become closer to his bed. I manage, with a groan, to lean down and pick one at random and it's filled with scrawled writing around the text of the page. The darkness and the bad handwriting makes it nearly impossible to read. I put in back before I develop a migraine.

There's also a trunk full of science equipment and binders full of results that I don't understand. While I appreciate the complexities of science, I find it boring. I found everything boring these days. I catch his tall, black, metal framed wardrobe in the corner of my eye and I hoped this would peak my interest. I grab the handle's, but it won't budge.

 **Sherlock's POV**

My body stiffens as I notice a presence within my dome of consciousness. The dragging of their left foot against the ground allows me to clearly identify the fact that it's Amy. I'm surprised she's awake and I can't help but be pleased that she is. Anyone else would have taken John's offer of sleeping pills and accepted his offer to sleep in his bed. Or would have fled. Got as far away from this mess as possible. But for some reason she wanted to stay.

I continue the filing of Mycroft's newest operatives responsible for putting us both in the hospital. Despite people's assumptions, I didn't have a photographic memory and I had to store the information I gathered about them before I forgot. I also thought it'd be more interesting to see what Amy gets up to when she's not being watched.

The rattle of the wardrobe snaps me out of the depth of my mind. The doors are glued shut after Mycroft's last raid. _It's going to fall._ I think but my adjusting to the surface takes longer than it normally does. She lifts her good leg under the wooden plank to give her leverage against the door. She yanks the door again in frustration and the weight of both the rocking wardrobe and the excessive weight on her injured leg is enough to send her flying backwards. She lets out a shriek.

I manage to grab the underarm of her shirt and the transfer of her weight pulls my shredded muscles. I ignore the pain as I lift her body towards my chest before the wardrobe topples over. It lands inches away from her narrow feet.

"Sherlock?" A panicked voice comes from the room across the hall.

I can feel the rapid heartbeat through the tight grip around her forearm that keep her from falling from the bed. Our heavy breaths echo the now silent room. I notice that her hands are still touching mine as she inches herself back on to the safety of the bed.

"Go back to sleep, John!"


End file.
